I have this fear. I call it my narci-phobia. When I write, speak, and even teach workshops, the thought of appearing self-centered makes me grip my thong. Well, I don’t really wear those anymore, but you get the message.
And so, when people began to suggest that I write a book, I squirmed. No way did I want to write a book about epilepsy, trauma, addiction, and divorce. I mean, who wants to read that, right? It wasn’t until days before my son was released from prison that I knew without a doubt, I had something, something I wanted to give away.
“Art isn’t art until you give it away.”
We had been informed that Wilson would walk out of Gwinnett County Corrections on Monday, January 10th, 2022, between 6:00 and 8:00 a.m. Thinking about this day caused a dopamine spike so powerful I felt like a caged orangutan on Red Bull.
On Friday afternoon, January 7th, 2022, I stood at my desk, attending a virtual meeting while trying to tame my zoo-like energy. It was the weekly wrap-up call with my best client and his sales team. Just before we closed the session, I announced that I would not be available on Monday, that my calendar was blocked. As I closed my laptop, this client’s name rang through my phone. I thought, that’s odd; he rarely calls me directly.
I answered the call, and we talked strategy for a few minutes. And then he told me he was curious. “You were beaming with a huge smile when you announced you’ll be out Monday. Do you mind if I ask what you have planned?”
Briefly, I shared the backstory of Wilson’s tragic journey, and that after seven years and 41 days, my son was going to walk free, into my arms. I explained that while I had never mentioned it, I never hide from our truth. I had just learned not to share it without a reason because it tends to stun people and derail the purpose of any conversation.
His response took me by surprise. “Tara, I know some about what you have been through with your daughter, but I had no idea about your son. And yet, you show up with more light, more authentic joy than almost anyone I have ever known. I’m blown away. Where does this come from?”
This was the moment when I knew I had to publish my manuscript.
Without even thinking, I responded from my gut,
“I show up with that spirit not despite heartache, but because of it.”
I’m not sure I saw it so clearly until I said it out loud. Learning to Ignite Joy from the Fire of Heartache is not a practice in comparative suffering: telling ourselves that we should suck it up and be grateful because many people have it worse. And it’s not a trail of toxic positivity: wearing a fake smile as a shield to hide our truth. Showing up with joy is an intention. Only through practice have I learned to do this most days. Some days I suck at it.
Suffering in solidarity with our loved ones only compounds the agony. Worrying or denying ourselves joy is not an expression of love; it is a barrier to living. If not for ourselves, then for those we love, we must respond to heartache by celebrating the omnipresent gifts that decorate every ordinary day. Life Minutes ~ Igniting Joy from the Fire of Heartache is a reminder to stop waiting for the absence of pain to embrace joy. Its stories show us how to repurpose that energy and immerse ourselves into the art, nature, and relationships that remain faithfully within our grasp.
Life Minutes was published when I trusted I had something to share. It was written for anyone whose capacity to love feels like a bonfire.
If you are still reading, then I know you know what I mean. For three years, I curated stories into a piece of literature for my family and for you.
The third page in Life Minutes
You, too, have a story that needs to be nurtured, curated, and shared with the world. I hope you will share it with me.
I hope this story made you smile, laugh, and think about how we can change the world.
With love and cheers,
Craft and curate your signature story in one afternoon:
February 28th, from 1:00 – 4:00 pm in Augusta, GA
Register here
or for more information: connect@enpointeglobal.com